Beginnings and Ends
by Luciddreamer326
Summary: Takes place after Season 9. How has life been after the X-files?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Beginnings and Ends

Plot: Set after Season 9. Mulder and Scully have been on the run for a few years. How has this affected their lives?

Rating: T (For language and some adult themes)

Spoilers: Season 9, maybe some random movie stuff

Category: Sappy, M&S Shipper-rific!

**Chapter 1**

Sometimes you have to run away, to flee the life you worked so hard to build. You have to keep moving because life does. It will not stop and wait for you to take a moment to gather yourself.

I know this all too well, the jagged and crumpled edges of the envelope shaking in my fingertips. My heart feels full and empty at the same time, something between a dull ache and euphoria swirling around in it. How long has it been? So long. I had almost forgotten how many days had passed since I saw his face.

But there is so much more to tell between my now and my then, thousands of moments standing next to one another to compose my life in a brilliant array of chaos and bliss. Before I tell you about my now, let's take a step back to where it all ended. And where it all began again.

**The Before**

It had been…six months? I'm not really sure. Between the sleepless nights and winding roads, I lost grasp of time really. I remember it was in a gas station bathroom. We had stopped to stretch our legs. As I was washing my hands, I looked up into the cracked mirror, not really understanding how I could look the same but feel so different.

Instantly, I hated myself. I hated that I still saw the traces of the old me, the FBI Agent, the mother-things I no longer was. It had been a hard six months, first explaining to my mother that I had chosen my child's father over my child-my work partner and eventually my lover-to flee off into the night with. Severing ties was never my intention, but it happened.

In month seven, I poured the darkest black I could find on my head. Blond seemed too logical, too safe, too close to the old me I wanted nothing to do with, to remember nothing about.

He said nothing when I came from the bathroom, locks jet black with a darkness even he hadn't seen in me before. He'd only met my emotional walls-never seen me echo it and physically wear my pain.

Neither of us spoke as he turned off the small table lamp and curled into me, the motel blankets scratchy upon my skin. We hadn't made love in months, countless days that had stacked up on one another without intention. I hadn't wanted to shove him away, but I had.

My love for him was unending but I ached for William in all the places Mulder just couldn't touch. The FBI had helped keep my thoughts from him, but now I had nothing but time to wonder, hope that my baby was safe. On his birthday, I cried endlessly. My little boy would be a year old now, maybe walking.

I felt my thoughts dissipate as he touched me and I moaned. I'd forgotten how good it felt to have his hands exploring the curves of me. Only then did I reach for him too, press my lips to his in a drastic effort not to weep into him. I'd missed him so but didn't know how to get over my emotional hurdles.

We made love three times, afterwards dozing off in one another's arms, knowing somewhere inside of us that many more days would pass before we came together again. And we were right.

In month nine, he bought a small home in a highly rural area of Washington State. I wanted to be as far away from D.C. as possible. Neither of us had worked since we left, living off part of the inheritance Mulder had received after his mother's death and both of our now dwindling bank accounts.

Our home was lovely in a quaint way. I tried to fill it with all the homeliness we both hadn't felt since our old homes. But I also think it was different for us too. We were no longer shadows in our own homes, alone. Another body was mashing footprints into the carpet behind me and it took some getting used to.

I got a job working at the county hospital doing lab work. We had changed our names; I had altered my appearance. In name, we were someone else. In soul, I was still me. But the night kept me away from most of the world as I dealt with blood samples, cultures, and other tests for only names, no longer faces.

Every morning, I trudged in to find Mulder asleep in our bedroom. Sometimes he had his laptop propped open. Most of the time, it was stories about paranormal activity and odd occurrences, things I believed in but had to roll my eyes about now because none of it mattered anymore. One morning though, it was something different.

"What the hell is this?" I felt myself breath.

He stirred in his sleep, looking at me wearily. Slowly, he sat up and his big, brown eyes turned sad.

"Didn't you hear me? Mulder, what the fuck?"

"Dana…"

"Don't 'Dana' me. What are you doing? The adoption database?"

It was month fourteen now. We hadn't spoken about him since I had visited Mulder in prison, had agreed then and there to let our son go because we couldn't give him a shot at a normal life. I never spoke his name, like it would freeze in my throat if I did. Then again, I didn't need to. I carried him with me always.

"There is a program through the site. They allow contact from the biological parents with consent of the adopted family," he began.

"I don't want to hear this," I muttered and started to walk from the room. Suddenly, I felt a hand come down hard on my shoulder and spin me around.

"Listen to me! For once in this last year, just stop and listen to what I have to say. I love you Scully. This is a constant; it will not change. Neither will my love for William. Now I have been in contact with William's adoptive parents. They have agreed to visitations twice a year, for now…"

"And then what Mulder? What about after the two times a year? We just go back to our lives and pretend everything is fine without him in it? Maybe it is easier to let go for good. We already gave up our right as parents."

"I had no say! You gave up that right!"

"Like you had no part in it? You gave me no choice Mulder. OUR SON was part ALIEN. He wasn't NORMAL."

"So then, what you are saying is that neither am I…because he is part of me and part of me is alien. What now? You discard me too?"

"Mulder…"

"No, don't worry about it Scully. We aren't married. You don't owe me anything. We just love each other, that is all. We made a pact with one another to stick together through thick and thin. But if you don't love me enough to stay by my side through everything…"

He paused.

"You do still love me, don't you Scully?"

Now it was my turn to stop. Yes Mulder, with every fiber of my being- I love you…to the depths of the deepest ocean and as far as the universe goes. But I didn't say it. The words wouldn't fall out of my mouth.

He looked stung and rightfully so. I would be too were I in his situation. Mulder hung his head and his shoulders sagged. Shuffling past me, he grabbed his coat and headed toward the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked, following behind him. He opened the door and then turned sharply. My body brushed up against him and a chill went down my spine. I knew what was coming. He laid a hand on my shoulder and threw me another sad smile. His hand moved to trace my face.

"Take some time. Learn to breathe a new way."

I tried to protest, but he kissed me quickly and was out the door, moving fast into the night and becoming swallowed by it. That was the last time I saw him, until month 16.


	2. Shattering Paperweights

A/N: I would love to thank all of you who wrote words of encouragement last chapter. It keeps me going. As always, I appreciate feedback so push the button and make it happen! I would love you all forever. Also, short chapter. School and writer's block have been plaguing me.

**Chapter 2**

Month fifteen, week two was difficult. Mulder was gone and wouldn't return my calls. I tried pulling credit card records but my FBI credentials were null and void. And Mulder was right; we weren't married so no one recognized me as his significant other or anyone who should matter. It was hard to accept him being God only knew where, doing only God knew what. He wasn't one to sit around calmly and let time pass. His limbs were incapable of sitting still it seemed and I had followed them wherever they had taken him, until now.

I cried for days, sobbed salty tears into shirts that had long lost his scent. I wouldn't sleep in our bed. It was cold without his warm body pressed against mine.

Month sixteen-It was raining one Saturday. I sat watching it drip from the eaves of our porch. I had opened a window, the cool air filtering in the empty space that was our home. Inhaling, I sucked in the fresh air and let it coat my lungs with life.

Over two months without him, no call, nothing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure move in the foggy mist. Instantly, I was frightened. No one knew where we lived and we had no company outside of that which we provided to one another. Yanking my gun from a nearby table, I inched slowly toward the door as the doorknob began to turn. Within a few moments, the heavy oak of the door creaked on its hinges and the figured entered.

"Stop right there! Put your hands above your head slowly or I will blow you away," I yelled.

"Scully," he whispered hoarsely.

I lowered my gun and felt tears threaten to run out of their ducts and down my face.

Throwing his hood off, I saw his bearded face which was almost unrecognizable, save for those same brown eyes I had stared into so many times. I threw myself onto him and held him as tightly against myself as I could. Part of me had begun to wonder if he would ever come back or if I were to be alone again, like before. I didn't want him to exit my life, our last words to one another being angry spats-at least on my part and my refusal to say I loved him.

"Have I come back, welcomed with open arms?" he asked between kisses.

"What do you think," I smiled.

"Never hurts to ask."

I let my fingers trace the new growth on his face, his substance feeling like a stranger connecting with me for the first time. This was some other woman's man, leaner and tanner. I felt as if I were caressing someone's ghost, save for the warm radiating from him that was always able to penetrate the darkest parts of me.

"I missed you so Fox."

"Fox? You never use my first name."

"Except…?"

"When we get into an argument or during making love."

"Mmhm," I grinned. Slowly, I let my hand find him and he jumped slightly. I felt him respond to me immediately.

"So maybe you did miss me a little?" he questioned, searching me for some sign.

"Where have you been?"

If it were possible to be dissected and torn apart by a look, it was happening to me. I suddenly felt foreign in my own skin and terribly self conscious about my appearance. I could tell he was going through me, through himself to decide whether he should tell me.

"Finding myself," he replied simply. "Or rediscovering if you will."

I didn't press it. Mulder and I had always shared something silent, something that neither one of us had to let escape from our throats to know. I accepted that he needed space to understand which direction his corners were bending in the ever present whirlwind. So did I, although most times I struggled to find the right paperweights that would hold me in place.

"Did you find a new way to breathe?" he whispered.

"No," I sighed back. "I just remembered how."

Dinner was wonderful. It was nice to have another body occupying the same space as me, to have human companionship again. The two months had seemed to stretch into some sort of infinite time zone, where minutes no longer ticked off clocks and calendars now longer flipped with seasons.

We dined on a nice salad with garlic specked croutons, lasagna as the second course, soft sourdough bread and a sadly shaped tiramisu for desert. Even so, it was my best meal ever.

I'd never cooked before because it was only me in a space. Getting used to someone depending on you for many of their daily activities tends to be difficult to get used to. He never complained and always seemed genuinely grateful for what little I was able to offer.

As I sat rearranging the leave of lettuce on my plate, it hit me. Some cleansing flood of reason washed over the sand dunes in my mind and pushed away the graying rain clouds. I am not sure what made me say it but it just came out, even after my staunch disapproval at the beginning.

"Let's see William."

The words had power to throw two universes out of tandem. Once I felt them slip off of my tongue, I knew a new chapter had begun. I knew that whatever I had tried to keep organized and in order within myself had been destroyed in gone. In three words, my aging promises had been burned out of my mind and heart. The paperweights I had used to keep my edges unturned, shattered.

And the look on Mulder's face melted my soul


	3. Premonition

When I was nine, I remember standing on the edge of the dock watching my father's ship crawl slowly into the horizon. I felt lost, stationary, tethered to the warped and bending planks as the salty sea sloshed against them. My mother's hand lay on my shoulder firmly, but so tight as to where my tiny shoulder blade could not wriggle out from her grip as her tears splattered into the ocean.

Bodies created a mass on the platform, other hearts aching in sizzling in agony knowing that, like me, they would not be seeing their loved ones for some time. I hated lack of definition, absence of time. I hated that my father had left me here, alone. Legs took bodies here and there, chatter amongst other navy wives and children only monotones in my ears, my fist clenched into heavy balls.

I saw a path, an opening…and the shimmering ghost of my father's ship on the water. My feet scuffed the boards as I back peddled and breathed in the sharp air. With all the speed I could conjure into my feet, I knocked and shoved my way behind backs toward the spot in my eyes. My toes lifted me off the ground with each hurried step I took, bringing me closer to the sea, to the edge, to my father.

Absently, I heard my mother cry out my name. Not now mother, I thought. I am a squawking sea gull following my prize into the yonder. When I hit the end of the dock, I flung myself into the air with all of my force and motion. My absent time hit me again, suspended me as my body lurched inch by inch farther into the sea.

My fists were no longer balls, instead extended in great satisfaction as the wind whipped through my fingers. I clawed the smell, the breeze, commanding it into my substance and being. Then, I hit. Cold liquid splashed into my throat and nose, burning it. I didn't fight it. I was drowning and I knew it, but I felt oddly alive.

I had dressed up especially to see my father off. We had talked about it all week, my mother and I. Melissa seemed less affected by the announcement of my father's impending absence. I was crushed. I dreaded this morning, knowing that my mother would pull me from my slumber with requests to adorn my new dress picked out freshly for the occasion.

So much for occasion, I thought idly as I sank. I had felt the dress snag on a corner post as I had leapt, knowing surely that the damage would incite a fit of rage from my mother. Special occasions do not tear apart Dana.

I don't remember much after, feeling as if I had failed my father in my inability to reach him. My last coherent thought was of the gushing water into my body, the complacency to end it right there, the overwhelming desire to shut my eyes and fall asleep.

But I didn't, instead peering into the May sunshine some time later. I sputtered and coughed as I rolled onto my stomach. My hair looked like a wildfire in front of my eyes as I gazed wearily between the planks at the waves, my fingers releasing some of the trapped water from my skin. Scurry back to where you belong, I mused as I regained my breath. Because I have no idea where I fit in.

The same dream for a third time in five days. Standing in front of the bathroom sink, I rubbed my eyes that I knew were caked with sleep. Quietly, I snuck a glance back at Mulder through the cracked door. I had managed to leave our sanctuary without stirring him. The faucet spurted moisture into my hands and I splashed it against my lids. After drying my face, I stood face to face with my own visage.

The memory of the gas station bathroom hit me again. My heart twisted in its cavity and I sighed deeply. My hand came to touch the glass, trace a little bit of the person staring back.

"You are dead Dana," I mouthed.

Something bad was coming. I could feel it.

_**The next morning**_

It seemed she came with the snow, drifting in as the wind swirled the white delicacy about the Earth. There were no alternate roads to our home, the only one shut down from the winter weather. The world seemed to shake as her footsteps crunched in the drifts, punching holes in the ground and creating tremors in my ears.

I could only see her brown locks whipping madly about at first, nothing else discernable amidst the chaotic storm. When she knocked, I jumped despite watching her lurk forward in her trek across my front yard.

Reluctantly, I made my way to the door and opened. For a split second however, I thought about letting her freeze. The cold air chilled me immediately and I scowled. Quickly, her bluing fingers un-wrapped the scarf plastered to her face revealing intense blue eyes, bright red nose, and chattering teeth.

I did not invite her in, uncertain of her identity and reasons for standing on my doorstep. I suppose my gruff demeanor signaled my distrust and she noticed it in me. I watched as her hand snaked beneath her parka and withdrew an object.

My heart dropped as I watched her bring the object to my face. Time froze like the icicles on the eaves, my bones their immobile siblings. I could see her body heave out a tired sigh, the breath in her mouth creating a vapor cloud in the air.

Grasping reality back, I motioned inside finally. I cringed silently as I thought about how I was letting the outside world inside of my well crafted one so easily, especially when I had worked so hard to disengage from it.

"I'm sorry to come unannounced. I was told to find you," she said quietly, intensely.

"Who are you?" I spat out. My only thoughts were of the conspiracy, the danger, the enemies I had made in my old life. And Mulder's.

"I showed you my badge…" she trailed off, obviously not following me.

"I read it. Special Agent Lily Jackson. Why exactly is the FBI knocking on my door in the middle of a snow storm?"

"You think you can disappear off the face of the earth? While ignorance about your identity is abundant here, there will always be someone out there who remembers you."

"Cut the shit. Why are you here?"

"Skinner sent me. It concerns your son, "she stated matter of fact.

I could see my vocal and physical agitation fusing into her growing curt attitude. She was tired of my shortness with her. To be honest, so was I. Now, only ever pressing fear dwelled in me.

"What about him?"

"There's been an incident. I'm here because you and Mr. Mulder recently filed paperwork to request visitation between you and your son. I guess I am your early rejection letter," she said with a sad frown.

My concentration on the conversation was shattered as I heard the front door open and slam shut.

"Yo, homegirl! Where are you?" Mulder's voice sounded from the doorway.

Agent Jackson stood quickly with me as Mulder appeared in the hall. His smile faded as he saw the two of us in the den. Sauntering to my side, he gave my hand a quick squeeze and then crossed his arms over his chest.

"What's going on?" he questioned.

"Special Agent Jackson," I pointed. Jackson extended a hand. "She came in regards to a matter about William."

I watched as Mulder's face glazed over. Jackson's hand hung in the air unmet and she quickly retracted it, stuffing it into her pockets. I felt bad for her. We were less than welcoming to this figure that held information about our son. She couldn't have been more than thirty, my guess landing somewhere nearer twenty-five. Her body language was rigid, nervous-but her face showed empathy.

"What's it been Scully? Five, six years? And the FBI comes to sit on my couch after they were so ready to hang me," Mulder smiled sarcastically.

"Mulder," I tried to ease him audibly. I could feel the agitation radiate off his body.

"Guess this is a 'kill the messenger' type of thing," Jackson growled, wrapping her scarf tight around her neck. "Pardon me, but if it is all the same to the two of you, I'd just as soon leave than have my vocal chords ripped out of my throat."

She started toward the door but was stopped by Mulder's hand meeting with the door frame in front of her face. Her eyes looked wild, angry. I could see her jaw clench. I prayed inside of myself that Mulder wouldn't start something.

"The storm is pretty bad, it's almost dark, and you will freeze before you get back to your Jeep. You came here to tell us something," he told her.

"Yes. " She paused. I knew the look, the internal search to find the right words for strangers. "Two days ago, the Colorado police department came across a crime scene at the residence where your son was adopted."

I sucked in my breath and grabbed for Mulder. He snatched up my hand fiercely and held it to his chest. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his ribcage.

Jackson sighed, and then continued on. "His adoptive mother is dead. The adoptive father still missing…along with William."


End file.
